


Hell's Kitchen, The Perfect Mother's Day Gift!

by milesawayfromthevoid



Series: Family Counselling Is Recommended, But The Apocalypse Will Do In A Pinch [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: + 1 Cishet Who Also Doesn't Know How To Cook, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, Gays Who Don't Know How To Cook, Gen, Making Pancakes, Mother's Day, that's literally it - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 17:59:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18596515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milesawayfromthevoid/pseuds/milesawayfromthevoid
Summary: Grace goes for a walk, Diego is in possession of the only braincell, Five is a man on a mission, and none of the gang knows how to fucking cook.





	Hell's Kitchen, The Perfect Mother's Day Gift!

 

They’re all back in their twenty-nine old bodies — or thirty, in Klaus’ case, and thirteen to Five’s annoyance. The apocalypse has been averted, they’re all seeing therapists on the regular, and Klaus, Ben and Luther have been looking for jobs when they have a free moment. Their dad is dead, their mom has been reprogrammed to have a freer will, and Pogo has been working on that pesky habit of keeping their fathers secrets. Things are going well. They’ve got room for improvement, certainly: Allison is still seeing a counsellor for Claire, and decided that staying in BC for a bit might help along with her progress, and Vanya is still working on asserting herself without apocalyptic results. Luther has a _long_ way to go in particular, but they’re getting there. 

Foolishly, Klaus figured that he could celebrate this progress by sleeping in one morning. He’s proven wrong with an airhorn blast that causes him to leap about a foot in the air. 

“Get up, you lazy whippersnappers,” Five called out from the hallway. He'd been playing up his oldest-brother- _technically_ status ever since he learnt that it bothered the others. “Its mother’s day and I have an idea!” 

Klaus groaned, making sure to loudly roll out of bed when he heard Five pass the door. Unfortunately, his brother wasn’t even phased, apparently, and kept walking. Honestly, Klaus’ dramatics were wasted in this family. 

He grumbled, about to crawl back into bed, when an air horn sounded from his open doorway. He ended up knocking his knee against the bed frame, turning to glare at Five. 

“Come on, we’re making pancakes.”

 

They all gathered in the kitchen. Vanya had come from her apartment much earlier, evidently, as she had several takeaway coffee cups and a box of doughnuts. Luther, Allison, Five and Klaus were dressed, the former three because they were morning people and the latter because wearing nothing but his underwear in the kitchen was probably going to get him lectures and it was too fucking early for that. Ben was the only one still in his pyjama pants and band t-shirt (and _god_ , was he grateful that his last growth spurt was before he got this, because if he had to toss this shirt, he was pretty sure he’d die again, and there was no way he’d risk chopping up the Revenge-era MCR logo to make it a crop-top). Turns out only he and Klaus were the ones who suffered the airhorn. 

Klaus took the last remaining seat at the table, and Ben immediately gives him the “Are you down for some pay-back pranks later?” look.

Klaus gives him what he _thinks_ is a discrete thumbs up. Ben solemnly nods, and turns to face Five for whatever this meeting was. 

“So, I decided that we’re making pancakes for mom while Diego hangs out with her at the park,” Five announced. 

Everyone looked at him suspiciously.

“Ok, what’s your angle here, short-stack?” Klaus said. 

“Topical,” Ben commented dryly. Klaus leaned over the table to high-five him, nearly upturning a cup of coffee in the process. 

“Thanks, I’ve been thinking about it since I was so _rudely_ woken —"

“Is it really so unbelievable that I just want to do a nice thing for my mother?” Five interrupted, again, because he was a gremlin.

There was a pause. 

“You just really want pancakes, don’t you?” Allison asked, one eyebrow lifted. 

“The place on the corner really doesn’t make them quite like home,” Vanya adds, ever the pacifist. Five doesn’t say anything, but he does do that little reflective shrug he does whenever he's called out but doesn't want to admit it. 

“Ok, let’s do it then,” Ben sighs, stretching his arms. He glares blearily at Five. “So, who knows how to make pancakes?”

Everyone was silent for a moment.

“I’ll get the tablet,” Luther sighs, shuffling out. 

 

They end up settling on a simple enough recipe. Unfortunately, as soon as the possibility for different flavours even comes up, there’s chaos. Allison remembered a maple walnut recipe she once made when she guest-starred on a celebrity cooking show, Klaus wanted classic chocolate chip, Ben wanted to make his with cinnamon, Vanya with blueberries, and Luther, the absolute madman, just wanted them plain. Five, pinching his nose at the increasing volume, stepped in before they started to fight for real. 

“Ok, we’ll just take a vote. Now, think long and hard and only vote once. Who wants maple?”

Allison raised her hand.

“Regular?”

Luther.

“Cinnamon? Chocolate?”

Ben and Klaus, respectively, raised their hands. 

“Blueberry?”

Vanya raised hers. Five huffed a sigh.

“Ok, we’ll just split the batter.”

They hadn’t, however, counted on splitting the batter seven ways. The bowl itself was very wide, and all it took was a shaky hand from Luther in order to spill a fifth of it onto the counter. 

“Alright, you know what, we’ll just make more!” Allison said, raising her hands up. “Leftovers! Luther, looks like yours are already done.” 

“This’ll be fun,” Ben commented, unmoving from the counter, and it was hard to tell whether the deadpan was from exhaustion or dryness. 

“Ok,” Five says. “We’ll need someone to flip them while the others make their own.”

Klaus made grabby hands at the spatula, and Five turned to Luther. 

“Luther, you’re on stove-duty.” 

“What!” Klaus demanded as Luther puffed up a little with pride. Five wasn’t doing it for Luther’s ego, or really any expectation of greatness from him. He was just the only one without a decent recipe on hand who _wasn’t_ Klaus. 

 

Allison had taken out all of the ingredients by now and had started her batter. Trouble was, she didn’t have the recipe on hand and the web-page was long since dead, so she was playing it by ear.

“Allison, that’s _soup_ , not batter,” Five pointed out. “You’re supposed to put the milk in _after_ dry ingredients.”

“What? No, I’m pretty sure we put mixed the milk and eggs first. That’s how we did it on the show, we mixed them separately and then poured the dry into the wet.”

“Are you positive? Because the recipe says you need a well in the dry ingredients.”

“I — maybe,” And Allison had guest-starred onto many different shows, be it cooking, fashion, building, celebrity ghost hunting — there’s only so much someone could feasibly retain from all those shows, especially since she wasn’t really a breakfast person in the first place. Paella? Macarons? Molten Lava Cake? Easy. She could make it right now, if it wasn’t nine in the morning. But pancakes? She never really cared for them in the first place, and Patrick usually took care of breakfast when they were together. So yes, maybe she might have flubbed the recipe a _little_. It was probably still fine, though. “Is that why it's really lumpy?”

“It’s okay, just mix it more,” Five confirms, and she continues where she left off. 

“Doesn’t that deactivate the baking powder?” Klaus called from the where he was sitting on the counter.

“That sounds fake, where did you even hear that?” Allison asked. 

“Yeah, maybe I’m mixing it up. HA! GET IT?” Klaus swung up the spoon, flinging batter everywhere. He grins under the indignant glares his siblings were sending his way. “Oh, whoops.”

 

Five looks over into Klaus’ bowl and sees the opposite problem. 

“That looks like drying concrete,” Five observed. 

“Wait, I thought it was two cups flour to every cup of milk?”

“Two — No! The recipe doesn’t even have two cups of _anything_ , Klaus, this is why we _read the recipe_!” 

“Ok, this is salvageable,” Allison said, peeking over his shoulder. “We’ll just have a …lot of leftovers.” 

“Great. Do any of us actually like breakfast, let alone pancakes? Aside from Five,” Luther asked.

Ben raised his hand, perusing the spice rack for anything that would compliment the cinnamon. 

“Ok, then Ben and I get custody of the pancakes once this is over,” Five announced. 

“Sick,” Ben said. 

 

“Vanya, how’s the blueberry batter coming?” Allison asked from the counter.

“All the blueberries are settling at the bottom? I can’t ladle it out without crushing them, and the recipe has them whole. I don’t understand?” Vanya said, showing the bowl to Five when he jumped over. 

“That’s weird, let’s review it.” Five picked up the tablet, scrolling through the tabs until he got to Vanya’s recipe. “Wait, we’re supposed to put them in the _pan_?”

“Like, sauté them?” Vanya asked. “I really don’t think I can do that.” 

“No, like ladle out the batter and put them on top. But how do you flip them like that?” Five wondered, eyes glued to the screen.

“Okay, either way, we can work with this, the batter will just be blueberry-y.” Allison cut back in. 

“Aw, I kinda wanted them whole…” Vanya said. 

“Do we have any left?” Allison asked. 

“I mean….no. I used them all.”

“Vanya, that was a _whole_ _litre tub_ of blueberries!” 

“And?” 

“That batter is for, like, eight people, max!” 

 

Luther flung the plastic bowl into the sink as soon as he ladled out the last bit of batter. Klaus didn’t pay much attention, more focused on turning his bowl and spoon into a mortar and pestle and grinding his chocolate chips into a fine powder before starting his dry ingredients, until he heard a disgusted and offended noise from Ben. 

“Ew!” Ben cried. “Five, stop eating that, there’s raw egg in there! You’re gonna get sick!”

Klaus turned to look, and indeed, their dignified and proper older brother was cleaning out the remaining bits of batter from the bowl with a spoon. He bristled under this newfound attention, shielding the bowl with his body. “Oh, what? It’s still good! I don’t wanna waste it!” He ate another spoonful, probably for spite now that Klaus really thought about it.

“It isn’t even flavoured with anything, it’s just eggs and flour!”Allison admonished. 

“Diego eats raw eggs all the time without getting sick,” Luther pointed out, not taking his eyes away from the circles of batter bubbling in the pan. 

“Diego is also a weirdo who actually _likes_ protein shakes!” Ben pointed out. And yes, Klaus was aware that Diego's protein shakes were probably better than the sludge their dad made them drink but he gets Ben's point.  “Five, _let it go_!”

Vanya and Allison ended up having to wrestle the bowl from Five’s arms.

 

“Ben, I think that’s too much cinnamon,” Five said when he finally got to his section of the kitchen. 

“What’re you talking about? It’s barely four tablespoons.” Ben continued stirring. At least he didn’t flub the batter. At least he didn't  _eat_ the batter. Five's opinion means nothing to him. 

“Four tablespoons _is_ too much! You don’t even have that much batter!” 

“Well, _you_ just can’t admit that you’re a coward!” 

Klaus leans over to defend him, picking up the cinnamon shaker. “I’m with Ben. In fact, I think we can afford a little more cinnamon.” Klaus pats the bottom of the shaker a little too hard and half the container spills out into the batter. It’s only with a jerky re-upturn of the jar that prevents the entire thing from being wasted. Everyone looks on in shock as there is a rusty-red radius of doom surrounding and within Ben’s bowl, like a target. “Oops. Sorry, Ben.” He said, handing over his still chocolate-less batter over to him as an apology. Ben seems to take it well, considering that there’s a grin ghosting his face. 

Five, evidently, does not share Ben’s sense of humour. “Klaus, you’re on clean-up once your done yours.” 

 

“What the hell — it’s _smoking!_ Luther, flip it! _”_ Five shrieks, swiping the pan and turning over the pancake. The top was a soft gold colour, exactly like the recipe; the bottom was burnt to a crisp and as tough as a hockey puck. 

“I thought it was supposed to be this colour, I don’t understand!” 

“You’re supposed to flip it when it bubbles!” 

“Oh?! Yeah, that makes sense now,” Luther said. He handed the spatula to Five. 

“Ok, you’re on clean-up. Klaus — wait,” Five said. 

Klaus, however, eagerly reached for the spatula. Five kept it away. “You got it, buddy!” 

“No offence to Klaus, but really, Five?” Allison asked. Klaus stuck his tongue out at her. 

“Yeah, I heard it as I was saying it.” Five admitted, leaning further away so the spatula was out of Klaus' gangly armspan. 

“ _Hey!_ ” 

“Ben! You’re on stove-duty!” Five said, handing the spatula to him instead. 

Klaus levelled his best puppy-dog eyes at Ben. “Ben, are you really gonna side against me on this?”

And the turn-coat emo just shrugged. Ugh! “Sorry, Klaus, it’s stove duty. Plus you ruined my batter, so I guess I’m not that sorry.”

"I'll remember this when the Danger Days reunion tour tickets come out!" Klaus called as Ben turned to face the stove. 

"I've accepted their end, Klaus, it's time you do, too," Ben said, as solemn as a man with a spatula and a cloud of cinnamon on his shirt  _could_ be.

 

 

“Ok, see, now THIS is what pancakes are supposed to look like!” Five said, holding up a finished pancake that Ben cooked. Then he frowned, staring at where batter was spilling out from where he was pinching it. He ripped it apart, watching the gooey interior spill out from the sides. “Oh, come — Ben! I thought you were paying attention to the video!” 

“I _was_ , I don’t know why it’s so soft inside!” 

“ _Soft_ is the ideal! _This_ is a _liquid_!”

“How is that even possible?” Luther wondered aloud. 

“Maybe that’s Ben’s new power!” Klaus teased. “Liquifying things! You're an alchemical genius, Benny!” He dodged a spoonful of batter that was lobbed his way. 

“ _You_ take stove-duty, then!” Ben told Five. 

“Fine! I will!” Five said, and took the spatula from Ben's hand. 

 

 

Five minutes into Five’s stove duty and there was a fire.

“I tried to flip it! I don’t know where it went!” He shouted as Klaus extinguished the fire. Turns out he was the only one who knew where the fire extinguisher was (mostly because he was responsible for the most fires and always put it in a new spot every time he used it, but that’s neither here nor there).

“Ok, I’m done with my batter, I’ll take stove-duty,” Allison said, swiping the spatula from Five’s loose grip. 

 

After awhile, Five’s Gordon Ramsey in Hell’s Kitchen impressions were wearing on all of them. Particularly since he hadn’t even bothered to lift a spoon during this entire venture, and he was the only one who really wanted to do this. 

“What are you _doing_ Allison, we don’t need salt in this!” He said as she raised the shaker. 

She levelled him with her best annoyed look and pointed to the tablet, where "1 Dash Salt" was highlighted. Five read it, and then…well, he didn’t exactly look sheepish, but he did make a noise in acknowledgement. 

“Oh. Sorry, Allison.”

“Mm-hm. Petition to remove Five from supervisor position?” Allison said. All hands shot up. Vanya handed him her ladle.

 

Pogo stopped in front of the doorway. “What are you all doing?”

“Making breakfast,” Five called from where he was trying to summon the blueberries from the bottom of the bowl. “Mother’s day. We’re good kids.”

“Klaus, that was on the floor,” Luther admonished as Klaus bent to pick up a stray chocolate chip. 

“You don’t even know that I was gonna —"

“We all know, Klaus,” Ben cut in, mixing his blend of cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice and pumpkin flavouring to his bowl. He even stole a pinch of Klaus’ chocolate powder, and Klaus assumed they were even by now. 

Pogo cleared his throat again. “You are all aware that Grace does not have a, ah, digestive system?”

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look up at him. Then Five rounds on the others.

“ _Why_ didn’t _anyone_ tell me that mom _can’t eat_?” he asks shrilly.

 

Grace and Diego walked into the kitchen, staring at their family bickering good-naturedly in a filthy kitchen. 

“Oh, yeah, they wanted me to keep you distracted,” Diego noted. “I think Five wanted everyone to make breakfast for you.”

Grace beamed. “Oh, I’m just so happy you’re all working together again. Seeing all my children here, together? That’s the best Mother’s Day gift I could ask for.”

And while Diego thinks that maybe his mom needs better taste in gifts than his siblings arguing in a smoking, filthy kitchen, he is still happy that his mom is happy. 

He’ll be sure that they clean up everything though. 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't see any of them knowing how to cook like. The basics. I think having Grace around to do most of it for their childhoods, and being in various states of "I don't have access to a kitchen" (Klaus, Ben, Five) to "Takeout and Pre-made tastes just as good" (Allison, Diego and Vanya) to "I'm basically either at home training or only have like soypaste anyway so I never really got the chance" (Luther) leads to them not really bothering. I think that I might continue the saga of them slowly learning how to cook.  
> Also, maybe a sequel/another chapter concerning Diego's end of things, with a nice walk with his mom and his siblings texting him constantly about "don't come home yet FIRE??" Idk, let me know what you think.  
> Constructive criticism, please!! I'd love to know what I can improve on!


End file.
